


could it be wrong, when she's just so nice to look at?

by exhaustedwerewolf



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Cutesy, F/F, Femslash February, First Meetings, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Museums, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 06:23:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17699288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exhaustedwerewolf/pseuds/exhaustedwerewolf
Summary: Suffering from definitely-not-art-block, Jester makes a trip to the museum looking for inspiration, and finds it- but not amongst the paintings on the walls.





	could it be wrong, when she's just so nice to look at?

**Author's Note:**

> a lot of inspiration from other sources for this one, so bear with me!
> 
> title is taken from Dodie's song, 'She'
> 
> the painting Jess is looking at is by Kent Davis and appears in the Tal'dorei Campaign Guide
> 
> and finally, this whole au is inspired by @floralprintshark on tumblr, who posted the following:  
> 'i went to a museum to get some inspiration to draw and then i saw you staring at one of the paintings in awe so i drew you and then you saw my picture and i am dying of embarrassment AU'
> 
> hope you enjoy!

Jester drops heavily onto a bench and narrows her eyes up at _The Emerald Citadel of Syngorn_. She’s sizing up an opponent, armed with nought but her mechanical pencil. The painting hanging on the wall in front of her is gorgeous, really, which is what makes the whole thing so _unfair_. On any other day the intertwining strokes that make up the elven architecture, the meticulous brushwork that forms the forest lit by dappled sunlight- all of it would have her practically _exploding_ with the need to draw, to rough out the kaleidoscope of butterflies the artist obviously should have included, to try her own hand at the spiralling buildings, adding the people who might have their faces pressed to the windows. But- she grimaces in thought- today has just not been her day so far, that is all. 

She doesn’t want to call it art block- she’s just a little _stuffy_ , like the drawing part of her brain is all wadded up with cotton wool and the stuff that she’s making right now is just as cloudy and falling-apart and also kinda _nothing_ \- her eyes slide over her sketches like she’s somehow producing negative space.

Forcing herself to put pencil to paper anyway, she pokes out her forked tongue in concentration, worrying at her lip with her fangs as she works. She doesn’t like any of what she pours onto the page- there’s no flow to her lines, no confidence- everything comes out flat and listing and boneless, like houses built without scaffolding. Soon her pencil marks are streaky from erasing and re-sketching and erasing again- she lifts the page to blow away the bitty residue, which scatters like sad white confetti, and allows herself to whoosh out a sigh, deflating in her seat. 

For a little while, she loses herself in fantasies of giving up for the day- it would be so easyto hop on a bus to the _Slayer’s Cake_ to pick up some donuts- she can practically taste the strawberry frosting by the time a shadow falls across her ruined page, and she looks up reflexively. 

Jester thinks for a moment that the stranger beside her is another tiefling- she glimpses a tail trailing out from underneath a deep green duffle coat, and from her position on the stranger’s right, she can make out a long, curved horn that shines like ebony, adorned with a shimmery ribbon. But when the stranger angles her face to take in _The Emerald City_ , Jester catches a glimpse, through a curtain of dark hair, of black scales- and she’s _never_ seen a tiefling with scales before, or a tiefling with such a beautiful, almost hypnotic luminous yellow eye- and before she knows it, her heart is beating fast, and she is flipping open a new page, her fingers closing around a marigold pencil. 

Jester fills the blank space in just a few minutes- the serpentine eye goes in one corner, and after some manic,jaggedy shading, she manages to get it so that it looks almost as if it’s aglow on the page. A patch of scales goes in the opposite corner- Jester dips into her greens to recreate where the gallery lights turn them iridescent, leaving them touched with jade, crowned with emerald. When the stranger turns her face, gaze still wandering across the painting, Jester barely suppresses a gasp of delight, turning quickly to another blank page. The portrait appears as if revealed by magic, and Jester grows more euphoric with every stroke of long midnight-black hair. She hits on the perfect blend of the rose and the coral-pink for her lips, and pulls every shade of green in the box for her other eye- sage, and fern, and pinpricks of seafoam, and she feels as if she is fizzing with the feeling of _creating_ , like her insides have turned to sweet overshaken soda.

She is just sitting back to look the page over, unable to suppress a toothy grin at the first _really_ good drawing she’s done all day- no, all week, of _course_ the Traveller suggested the museum today- when a delicate voice draws her back to the moment.

“Oh-”

It’s her muse that’s spoken- she’s gazing down at Jester’s sketchbook, fingertips resting at her lips as if her hand has just gone to her mouth in surprise. Her beautiful, odd eyes are wide with shock, and looking into them is like looking into two bright shards of stained glass, leaves Jester wonderstruck and a little dreamy, for a heartbeat- until she glances down back at her sketch again, and her tail stiffens like a startled cat’s.

“Ah, you saw- oh my gosh-!” She squawks, her heart racing now, as if to make up for seizing when they locked eyes- she throws her entire upper body over the sketch, although it’s far too late to hide evidence of her sort-of crime. “People don’t usually notice when I draw them- I’m sorry, I should have asked you first- well, technically,I draw people without asking them all the time, technically, in like coffee shops and on the bus and things, it would be impossible to ask everybody, and I’m never going to see them again usually, but it’s just, you’re really pretty-” she pauses thoughtfully, sitting back up, “like, _so_ pretty-” she repeats, with deep feeling- “and I didn’t want to bother you when you were looking at the paintings and I didn’t know how long you’d be here for and I guess I am talking really really fast now and it’s really quiet in here and you haven’t said anything so I am going to stop now-” Jester shuts her mouth, very aware of how her voice has been echoing in the quiet of the gallery space, and she- the stranger-

“Oh, I’m being so rude!” Jester cries, sticking her hand out- the woman flushes- _pink madder lake-_ Jester thinks- _such_ a pretty colour, she’ll have to give it a try later- “I’m Jester, it’s really nice to meet you! What’s your name?”

“I’m- Calianna.” She says haltingly, and when she does shake Jester’s hand Jester realises that she’s wearing gloves- the same deep green as her coat, with tiny ribbons at the cuffs.

“Ooh, your gloves are so cute!” Jester says, smiling as warmly as she can to try and put her- _Calianna-_ at ease. “And Calianna is such a nice name!”

“Thank you,” Calianna says shyly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Miss Jester.” She has a really beautiful voice, and her accent is cool too, kinda fancy, Jester thinks- but still friendly and sorta relaxed in the kind of way that makes someone nice to talk to. 

Jester is so caught up in this line of thinking- because really, Calianna’s words are shaped so elegantly and her lips really are _so_ pretty, she must use a really nice gloss- she doesn’t notice the silence that has unfolded between them until Calianna breaks it with a rueful laugh.

“You- You were kidding, right? You don’t really think I’m…” She gestures to the scaled part of her face with a helpless sort of expression. “...Pretty?”

“Uh, duh!” Jester scoffs. “You’re like, the prettiest person I’ve seen all day!” She says, empathically, and adds; “And I saw my roommate Molly this morning, so the competition is _pretty_ steep, but I guess he had just woken up and your outfit is really really cute so-” Calianna laughs in a dazed sort of way, and her laugh is so bright and lovely that Jester can’t help but laugh a little too.

“So yeah, that was why I wanted to draw you.” She claps her hands together. “I hope that’s okay!” 

“You... didn’t just want to draw me because I look so _weird_?” Calianna’s voice goes hushed as she finishes- she wends a lock of her hair around her fingers anxiously.

“I mean, it’s good weird, y’know?” Jester says, without thinking- Calianna looks unconvinced. “Like, you look really cool! People tell me _I_ look weird all the time but I really like the way I look ‘cause I look like my Mom and she’s really beautiful _and_ it’s fun using all the blues when I do self portraits although I use them up pretty quick and horns can be really tricky to get symmetrical- but you just have one horn so I didn’t have that problem when I was drawing you, and I got to use _so_ many of the really good colours getting your eyes right-” She cuts herself off with a flustered laugh, fanning her face. “Oh, sorry, I am babbling again, aren’t I?” She knows she can get carried away, especially when she’s talking about art but weirdly, she really, _really_ wants to keep talking to Calianna, whose hesitant smile seems to be strengthening the longer she keeps talking, for some reason.

“It’s alright,” Calianna promises, and gestures politely toward the sketchbook. “Can I… Would you mind if I had a proper look?”Jester feels a flutter of nerves at the thought- which is also kinda weird, because she doesn’t _usually_ mind showing people her sketches, jumps at the chance, even- so she nods and scoots over on the bench.

“Come sit!” She invites, tapping the space next to her with her tail-tip.

Calianna does, with a gracefulness that immediately makes Jester want to draw her again, in motion this time, hair and ribbons aflow all about her- but she waits as patiently as she can while Calianna settles, smoothing out her skirts. Jester passes her sketchbook carefully to Calianna, and the moment she hands it over, the flittering of butterflies turn to the frantic wings of a bird in her chest. 

A moment goes by, and Calianna stares in silence down at the drawing. Jester drums her fingers on the edge of the bench. Two moments. Her tail starts to twitch.

It’s difficult to tell what Calianna is thinking- her own tail is curled neatly about her ankle, completely still, her long hair hides much of her expression, and of course, she hasn’t said anything. Yet. The moment draws and then drags on until it must’ve been at least _five minutes_ of her just staring at it, still not saying anything or making any sound at all, really, and Jester thinks if the mounting pressure of the silence keeps building like this she’s going to just implode, crumple like an aluminium can, and she can’t help herself-

Jester leans forward to look over Calianna’s shoulder at the drawing again, and it’s _good_ , but it’s nowhere near as beautiful as the girl sitting beside her. If she tried again, she could get more life in her, she’s sure- and she’s just about to say so, start picking apart the shading and the expression like she’s at her own crit or something, when her muse speaks up.

“You made me look so…” Calianna trails off, Jester winces internally as she waits. “ _-Beautiful_.” The word comes out hushed, almost disbelieving. She seems unable to tear her eyes away from the drawing. “You’re- this is amazing.” 

There’s a note of strange voracity in her voice that gives Jester a sudden, strong feeling about Calianna. She seems so demure, between the bows and her polite, silvery voice and the way she is looking up at Jester through her lashes, but it’s like looking at a lake where the blue-green water is so clear you don’t notice until you dive just how deep that water goes. The expression she wears when she looks down again at the portrait- there’s a graveness, a hunger in Calianna’s eyes, something almost… _draconic_ , Jester realises, with a thrill.

“No, really-“ Calianna says, looking back up at her, and her smile is in fact, as sharp and charming as a dragon’s, straight out of a fairy tale, but also so achingly _genuine_. “You’re so talented, Miss Jester.”

 _Oh,_ Jester realises, finally- as her chest is speared with the heart-tipped arrow. The sting of it is sharp and fresh and clean, like the touch of snow to fingertips, the acid sweetness of lemonade, and yes, suddenly she _gets_ it, the page-long tangents in the novels tucked under her bed about that first long look, that first sincere smile.

It’s the best feeling in the world.

She’s broken into a grin in return, she realises, belatedly, and trips over herself in her haste to respond.

“Thank you!” She exclaims, wondering how it’s possible she doesn’t sound entirely different, because she feels so _new_ compared to just a minute ago, like another person entirely, like a dragonfly bursting out of a nymph- “But to be totally honest with you, I would really like to try again- you are, like, _super fun_ to draw, and I want to see what I can do with my paints, so if you are not busy and you are okay with modelling for a little sometime-”

Calianna stiffens at the word “modelling,” and Jester flaps her hands in a manner she means to be reassuring but is probably too vigorous to come off as such.

“I get that it sounds kinda intense but it doesn’t have to be a big deal, I know most people find the idea of sitting for a painting these days sort of weird but you’ll barely notice, I promise, we can chat while I work, and you don’t have to decide right now obviously, we can hang out first- we can get coffee or something-”

Calianna licks her lips thoughtfully, and for a moment, Jester feels like she’s looking over the edge of a cliff she’s about to be let down gently, which is hardly going to matter when the fall is so, so long, and probably end with her heart all scattered across the cutting rocks of rejection. The wind is already whistling past her when Calianna says, sunnily;

“Coffee would be great, honestly, if you’re not too busy.”

The fall is put on pause.

“Really?” Jester confirms. Calianna nods. 

“Really?!” She repeats, delighted- forgetting the fall entirely, because now she’s _aflight_ , “I mean- great! Would you like to go right now?” 

-

When Jester finds herself at the bus stop a few hours later, bouncing up and down on her toes, her hand is firmly buried in her coat pocket. Her fingers brush against the coffee-stained napkin with a phone number copied out in careful script that curls like the mist of her breath in the Misuthar chill, and despite herself, she can’t keep the smile off her face.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, thank you for reading! come find me on tumblr @exhaustedwerewolf


End file.
